Hollywood Horror
by Elrith Rydrine
Summary: Looking to pass the time, America watches a cheap horror flick. Suddenly, the room is plunged into darkness; alone and scared, Alfred is sure all the forces of evil are after him. Can he find a way to save himself without driving the other nations crazy?
1. The First Night

Alright, I'm still getting this uploading business figured out, so please tell me if there are cut out words (I'm still trying to fix that in some places).

Otherwise, enjoy!

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BOOM! slammed the heavy wooden door, plunging the scantily clad blonde and rugged protagonist into a sinister darkness filled with whispers and hisses.

BAM! crashed Alfred's plate onto the floor, Nachos and salsa flying as he jumped back from the TV, eyes wide, gaze fixed on the large screen. The blonde woman was now clutching her boyfriend's arm, too transfixed by his rugged handsomeness to notice the slithering shadow creeping up to her shiny stilettos. Closer…closer…

'EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!', screamed the girl, clutching at her lover as she was dragged away, out of the living room, through a hole in the rotting wood, grabbing at the planks in defiance moments before being pulled down into the dark, damp lair of the … thing.

The protagonist whirled around, looking for his girlfriend and instead finding himself face to face with a cadaver, chained to the wall with a dark cross around its neck. The fresh blood still pouring from the gaping cavity in its heart spilt down onto the floor and formed itself into a message.

"Y-You're next", whispered Al, swallowing hard and clutching his star spangled pillow to his chest.

"You're next", repeated the protagonist, so intent on the writing that he failed to notice the darkness slithering around him once more, coming closer with every beat of the eerie music, leaving smears of grime and gore in the dust as it began to materialize behind him. It had claws now, and eyes crazed with hunger. As the vestige of fangs appeared in the shadows, it reached forward, slowly, ever so slowly, the music rising, Al leaning forward despite himself, thunder booming until-

-PZZZZ-

With a flash, the screen turned black, the nightlight beside it going out in the same second. With a scream, Alfred launched himself behind the couch, landing painfully on his side as he vaulted it. Heart pounding and breath coming in ragged gasps, he scanned the darkness, imagining it shift and change under his gaze.

There! Right there, Alfred was sure something just moved!

That was in the direction of the TV, right? Swallowing loudly, the American backed away, still facing the TV – or at least what he guessed was the direction of the TV – using his hands and feet to push himself back as quietly as possible.

The silence of the room was broken only by Al's quiet whimper as he suddenly hit the door with his back. Hands shaking, he reached for the knob and literally fell out of the room as the door swung open. Sprawled on the floor, he was in the pitch darkness of what was supposed to be a hotel hallway.

-BANG!-

Alfred jumped as the door swung shut with a resolute crash. One second. Two.

Just when he decided it was safe to crawl away and find light – and people, as long as there were enough sidekicks, the hero never got killed, right? – there was a creak to his left. Hearing sharpened by fear and darkness, Alfred could hear the soft footsteps approaching him.

Oh God.

Oh God, he didn't want to be eaten!

He had dreams!

Things to fight for!

Citizens to protect!

Using the wall for support, Alfred propped himself up, knees shaking but holding his weight. Damn it all, he wouldn't go down without a fight!

He was a hero!

He could-

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!

Alfred let out an ear-piercing wail and flailed as he felt something – it was the tentacles from before, he was sure – snake around his waist. The monster let out a pained 'ouph' as he sent a kick in its direction, followed by a hushed 'merde' and a string of unintelligible but clearly annoyed French.

Oh God, the thing was French! It was probably a giant snail, or something equally slimy and foul!

Suddenly, a light went on to his right, blinding Alfred for a moment before it revealed itself to be a flashlight held by a pretty short-haired blonde woman in a cocktail dress, staring just beyond him with confusion written in her green eyes. Turning to his left, Alfred couldn't spot the monster that had almost devoured him just moments ago; he ~could~ spot a winded Frenchman clutching at his ribs and looking positively murderous.

"Francis?", Al asked, voice coming out in a squeak. Clearing his throat, he tried again "Francis, is that you?"

"Oui", came the pained reply, as Francis gasped and straightened out, still holding his side and blinking away tears.

"Did it get you too?", whispered Alfred urgently, looking beyond the light of the flashlight into the hallway.

"Did what get me?", muttered the older man, glancing around in annoyance.

"You know…", prompted Alfred, leaning forward and looking around hurriedly "… the ~thing~".

"I know not what ~thing~ you are talking about", Francis smiled tensely, "Per'aps you are referring to ze sudden outage of power. En fait, that did not so much …get me… as did your kicking me in ze ribs."

"What, that was you? I thought you were a monster or something!", Alfred exclaimed. "Why the heck did you grab me around the waist?"

"I…mistook you for someone else", Francis said tensely, looking genuinely sorry… for himself.

"So you didn't see ~it~", inquired Alfred hurriedly, still looking around.

"I do not know what ~it~ is, but rest assured that there is no one in this hallway but you, me, and Annabelle, so if you would please excuse us-"

As Francis turned to leave, Alfred latched onto him arm.

"Francis, you gotta stay with me! That thing is still out there, and if I'm alone…", he trailed off, eyes widening at the gory possibilities.

"Absolument pas. I have prior engagements, as you can see", Francis motioned to the pretty girl and made to leave.

"No way, you have to let me stay with you! This is our lives we're talking about here, we gotta get out of here-"

"Alfred, I know zat Englishman told you some strange stories about… fairies and the like… but you 'ave no reason to believe him. The power should be on soon, so just go and…", Francis made some indefinite gesture with his hand in the direction of the American's room.

"But it's da~ark!", whined Alfred, inching closer to the girl with the flashlight. Come to think of it, if you ignored the fine eyebrows, she did look remarkably like-

"America, now really" – Francis punctuated the 'really' with a delicate raise of his eyebrows – "is not a good time." Stepping closer and whispering into Alfred's ear, he continued in a husky tone "If, 'owever, you so dezire my company, I will be glad to…accommodate you… At. Another. Time."

Alfred shivered, and Francis almost gave a self-satisfied smile before noticing that the American seemed transfixed by something completely other than him – in fact, he was staring at his date's shoes with a morbid fascination.

Francis drew his eyebrows in confusion, contemplating her shiny stilettos. Non, they matched her dress perfectly, no need to worry about zat.

"Qu'est-ce que-"

"Ahahahaha. Ha.", Alfred cut Francis off with loud laughter, obviously forced. "Well, I don't want to disturb you any further" - at this, the American gave a slow and deliberate wink, making Francis bury his face in his hand, hiding his pained expression and mutter of 'incorrigible' - "So I'll just be going now. Say, you don't happen to have a spare flashlight, do you?"

"'Ave this one", Francis said quickly, snatching the light from the blonde, "We will not be needing it."

"Really? Thanks Francis! Enjoy being dinner- I mean having, having dinner. And stuff."

With one last look at the girl's shoes, Alfred grasped the flashlight tightly, and began quickly walking away down the hallway, back stiff and eyes fixed straight ahead. Francis was almost curious now, but he had more … pressing matters to attend to, he decided, after a look at Annabelle.

The dark hallway filled with giggles and whispers moments before a door slammed shut. A few doors down, Alfred jumped at the sound and sped up, confident in the knowledge that ~It~ would be coming Francis and his stilettos – wait, his woman's stilettos - first. As per movie.


	2. The First Night Part 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. So don't sue me.

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2 A.M. flashed Alfred's watch as he wandered further into the hotel. Under the yellow beam of the flashlight, the wooden doors loomed dark and menacing. The small tables in the hallway casts long shadows that seemed to flicker – no, wait, that was something else flickering in the dark, a small light, coming closer, closer…

Alfred almost turned to run away, before remembering that Francis was probably already eaten, so he would just be a walking hamburger to those Freedom Fries – now he knew why Mat called them French Fries. While the American was imagining all the different toppings the thing would probably put on him, the light drew closer still, and revealed itself to be Ivan carrying a small white candle.

With a bang, Alfred dropped the flashlight and jumped back – thinking about whether ketchup or BBQ sauce was a more American dressing, he hadn't noticed the Russian's quiet approach. Ivan smiled sweetly and picked up the light, eyes twinkling an eerie purple as he angled it to just blind Alfred. The latter squinted and shielded his eyes with his hand, cringing involuntarily before reaching out to grab it back.

Ivan held the light just out of his reach, inquiring softly, "Is something beink the matter, America? You are not looking vell."

"None of your damn business, Ivan. You can go and get eaten for all I care.", snapped Alfred, tips of his fingers brushing the metal of the light as he stood on his tip-toes.

"Get eaten?", Ivan's face grew momentarily darker, as if a cloud passed over it, before his dazzling smile was once again in place. "But we are beink friends now, are we not, America? So why wish something like this on me?"

"We're both going to be if you are not 'givink me the flashlight presently', alright?", growled Alfred. Ivan blinked in confusion at the American's imitation of him before lowering the light into Alfred's reaching fingers.

"I am givink you the light now, da? Since I have done this, you will explain to me what is goink on?"

Alfred, instead, eyed the candle suspiciously before muttering, "Why d'you have a candle anyways? Don't you have electricity in Russia?"

"Of course we are havink electricity", Ivan afforded, "but candles are beink more reliable, are they not? Besides, they can be used to chase away all sorts of monsters, da?"

"M-monsters?"

"Monsters, da", stated Ivan in a confidential tone, trying for a serious expression, but smile still tugging at his lips. "You are knowink, of course, that candles must be thus used?"

"N-No. I mean, yes, of course I know… but… I bet you don't know the full story! You'd better tell me to check!", exclaimed Alfred, gazing at the Russian with rapt attention. The light of the candle reflected in Ivan's eyes eerily, making them seem to glitter.

"How considerate you are beink, friend America! Very vell, I vill be tellink you about the Viy, horosho?"

"The…viy?"

"Da. Of all the creatures of hell, it is one you should be fearink most, I am thinking.", Ivan whispered, Alfred leaning forward despite himself, so as not to miss a word.

"You see, the vedmyi – witches, in your tongue – the vodyanoi, the zharptitsa, the koschei, you can protect against them. It is very simple, to do this. Just take the piece of chalk", Ivan reached into his coat and pulled a small white piece from inside, "and be drawing the sacred circle around oneself. Once you are doink this, they cannot see you, and cannot harm you as long as you are stayink in the circle."

Seeing how desperately Alfred was looking at the chalk, Ivan pressed it gently into the other's hand.

"However… the Viy is… special"

"S-special?"

"Da. Special. Unique. You see, it is a creature with a gaze that can pierce into a man's soul. The moment you look at it, it can be seeink you, and so can the demons that are surroudink it…the circle is broken, you see?"

Alfred swallowed loudly, eyes wide.

"H-how do I know …w-what's it look like?"

"Oh, very few people who have seen it are living to tell the tale! However… there are stories of it…"

"S-stories?"

"Da. It is a creature of the night, lumbering and huge. Its hide hangs around it, iron face marred by its eyelids. Its eyelids, they are hanging down to the very ground – that is how you may know it. The demons around it, they must lift them for it… without this, it cannot see. Be wary when its eyes are open, though! The moment you are lookink at it, it vill know you and cast its brood, all the demons and ghosts, to tear you apart!"

Ivan accented the last sentence with a quick jab to Alfred's chest with his finger, sending the American sprawling onto the floor, landing on his but with an –oomph- and dropping the chalk. Alfred immediately scrambled to pick it up, not noticing the diabolical glint in Ivan's eyes.

The Russian extended a hand to pull the other man up from the floor, drawing him close for a moment and whispering "Sweet dreams, America" before walking off down the hallway, leaving a trembling Alfred behind him.

"W-wait! Ivan! … Ivan?"

The Russian had already disappeared.

___

Note that Ivan is listing some random russian folklore creatures as monsters. The vodyanoi is like a bog creature, a Drowner, that lives in swamps. The zharptitsa is sort of like a phoenix – literally a firebird – and isn't evil at all.

The Viy is apparently a Ukranian mythological creature which Gogol used in his short story entitle The Viy. The information about it is from there, as far as I can remember it ;P


	3. The First Night Part 3

Quickly, quickly, Alfred pointed his flashlight at the nearest door and knocked at it with all his strength. The pounding rang loud in his ears, hinges creaking. He almost missed it opening, stopping his fist moments before hitting Kiku in the face.

"A-america-san?"

Kiku stared at Alfred. The American was pale, sweat on his brows and breath coming in short gasps. He was clutching something white in one of his hands, staring at Kiku with wide blue eyes.

"A-Alfred-san, is there something the matter?", inquired Kiku quietly.

"Kikuyou'vegottahelpme!"

"A-ano, excuse me? I'm sorry, I did not understand what you said, Alfred-san."

"Kiku, you. Have. To. Help. Me.". With every word, Alfred leaned closer to the Japanese man.

"What is the problem?", Kiku inquired politely, stepping back a little.

"The Viy!", exclaimed Alfred.

"The…what? I am sorry, I do not know that word. Perhaps if you could give me a minute, I could use my laptop to check-"

"You know, the ~Viy~!"

"I- I am not sure if I know-"

"Kiku, listen, you've gotta let me stay with you, ok? Because it was in Francis' room, and it's probably finished with him already, so it's gonna be coming down the hallway any second-"

"A-Alfred-san, I-"

"Wait, don't interrupt. It's gonna be coming down the hallway any second, and even Ivan won't be enough to stop it, and even if he is big boned, it'll still be hungry and if I'm there-"

"Alfred-san, please come in", sighed Kiku, noticing that the American's voice was rising in both pitch and volume. It would do no good to disrupt the other countries at this hour of night.

Alfred took the invitation, brushing past Kiku in a heartbeat and slamming the door shut, locking it and placing a chair under the knob for good measure.

"A-ano, America-san. I was… using that chair, so if you don't mind-"

"Well, you don't really need it, do you?", asked Alfred desperately, "I mean, don't you usually kneel and whatnot?"

"That… that is possible", sighed Kiku in defeat, honestly considering just saying 'no' to Alfred's antics. Still, America was his friend, right?

"Alfred-san, my apologies for not having any tea. The electricity is out, and brother China has taken away most of my batteries for his Shinatty laptop – Korea-san has taken his power cord and he cannot as yet retrieve it – so I cannot boil water as yet. However, I can offer you some dried seaweed, if you would like."

"Ew. No thank you, I'll pass on the seaweed", Alfred wrinkled his nose, plopping down and making himself comfortable beside Japan's futon.

Japan sighed and closed his laptop, first saving his progress in the current dating sim. He really didn't really want Alfred commenting over his shoulder like last time.

So what if cat ears didn't appear on humans naturally? They were cute, right?

Besides, it was getting late. Kiku sighed and made his way to the futon, lying down to face away from America's flashlight.

A minute passed.

"Kiku?"

"…"

"Kiku, you're awake, right?"

"Yes, I am awake, America-san"

"You're not going to sleep, right?"

"Why would I not?"

"Because!", Alfred grabbed the poor man's shoulder and shook him, "because if you do, ~It~'ll get you!"

"It?"

"The Viy!"

"I still do not know that word, Alfred-san. Please, go to sleep. There is a couch which I am sure you will be comfortable on"

"I can't go to sleep! That's what It's waiting for!"

"It is possible that you are mistaken, Alfred-san. The only person waiting for you to fall asleep is me."

"No, that's the thing! You're ~not~ the only one! You can't fall asleep yet, Kiku!"

"Sumimasen, Alfred-san, but there is a meeting tomorrow and I believe that it would do us both good to get some rest. I assure you that nothing will go wrong."

"But, Kiku…"

"Oyasumi, Alfred-san"

And five minutes later, Kiku was asleep.

Alfred, in the meanwhile, huddled beside him, flashlight illuminating the plain hotel room. The door to the washroom loomed dark, a gaping black hole ready to swallow him. The couch hid distorted forms behind it, lurking.

Suddenly, a dull scream resounded from the hallway. Alfred jumped, letting out his own wail and gripping his chalk, and spun around on his knees, drawing a crooked circle around himself.

Then he drew a second one for good measure.

Sitting inside the drawings, he felt safer, a little. Looking out into the dark room, Alfred tried to see past the darkness, looking deeper into it. No more screams were heard; Kiku's soft breathing and the ticking of the watch were the only sounds in the silence.


	4. The First Day

Slowly, slowly, the room began to lighten. Alfred sat shivering in his circles as the dawn's light began to filter through the window.

Sometime in the night, he had added a few more chalk drawing around himself, circles and crosses and scraggly text reading 'No demons allowed'. Finally, when Kiku began to stir, Alfred stood up on shaky legs and walked to the doorway. Carefully removing the chair and unlocking the door, he peered out into the hallway; rays of light were coming from the skylights overhead, giving the wooden building a warm glow.

Slowly, ever so slowly, America crept to the meeting room to wait for the other countries.

**

America listened to the conversation, quickly getting louder and louder, yet fading in and out for him as he suppressed another yawn.

"-What I ~am~ saying is that that ~git~ is probably responsible for the disaster last night-"

"Quiet, please."

"-which is exactly why he know not to show his frog face here today, that-"

"Quiet!"

"pompous pansy wine-breathed-"

"Ve, ve, but it's so ~early~! Brother France is probably still sleeping-"

"SILENCE", roared Ludwig, effectively shutting up both Italy and a very irate Arthur.

"Now", the German gave a small cough and continued in a more reasonable tone, "I understand that there were some technical difficulties last night-"

"Technical difficulties?! That was bloody sabotage, it was! Hours of work, wasted because this place apparently doesn't have a backup generator for power outages!"

"Arthur-san, does your laptop not have an internal battery? That is most strange-"

"It has a bloody battery, I was just ~using~ it for so long that it needed to recharge and-"

"Maybe you should have saved-aru"

"I ~DID~ save. But this stupid program refuses to acknowledge that-"

"QUIET!"

"…"

"Now, I understand that what happened yesterday was a most unfortunate incident. However, there is no need to blame the technology; the backup power did not come on because … something… had chewed through the wires."

Alfred swallowed hard and inched to his right (Switzerland was to his left), bumping into a very guilty looking Matthew, unnoticed by everyone else, and clutching his bear to his chest. Kumajirou was particularly fuzzy today, Alfred noticed, the strands of fur standing on end and looking quite singed in some places.

"We're still trying to determine exactly what happened", Ludwig continued, standing "but as of yet, the damage is not fully assessed."

"So we still do not have electricity-aru?"

"No, unfortunately not", muttered Ludwig. "However, given that these meetings are just a diplomatic prelude, so to speak, moving to another location would be a needless waste of time. It would put us behind schedule."

"And staying in this godforsaken hole isn't going to put us behind schedule, you potato-bastard?", snarled Romano, eyeing his brother getting comfortable in his own and Ludwig's chairs, making a makeshift cot of sorts.

"We can continue the meeting here and move to the next location Wednesday", replied the German tensely, making to sit down and jumping up again in surprise upon feeling something moving in the place where his chair had been.

"~Ve~, Ludwig, it is so ~early~. Since there's no light, can we just sleep for now?", smiled Feliciano from the two seats, already curled into a warm and comfortable looking ball.

"Absolutely not! Even if it is not of vital importance, we still have a busy schedule ahead. We will proceed as planned, while we still have sunlight. You will also receive flashlights from the main town."

"Why can't we just ~go~ to the main town-aru?", asked China sleepily.

"Because we have a schedule to keep. Also, no one here speaks French.", muttered Germany, ignoring Canada's feeble exclamation of protest. "And as you may have noticed, we are at the foot of the Pyrenees. Francis, in the meanwhile, is nowhere to be found. Therefore, I would suggest that we make the best of the situation while we wait for him to come back. Meaning that no one calls for FBI rescue". Ludwig glared pointedly at America, who yawned back.

"Sumimasen, Ludwig-kun. How are we going to present if the projectors are not working?", inquired Kiku politely.

As answer, Ludwig stepped out of the room for a moment, before coming in with a blackboard on wheels rolling behind him. Stationing it at the front of the room, he placed a box of chalk on the table, followed by a dusty brush.

"Oh."

"Aren't we missing someone-aru?"

As if in response, the door slammed open and in stormed a limping, haggard looking Russia, coat torn in several places and scarf smeared with red. Making his way over to a seat, he practically fell into it, Canada just managing to scramble out from beneath him.

"What the hell happened to you, you vodka bastard?", scowled Romano, sounding more curious than angry.

"Nothink", smiled Ivan, showing a couple of bloodied teeth.

"Well, you look like you got run over by Italy", cringed England, memories of the Italian's driving still fresh in his mind. Never again was he going to accept a lift from that boy.

"I fell down the stairs", sighed Ivan, hissing as he poured vodka over a slash on his arm.

"Right. Let's begin the meeting then", said Ludwig loudly, so as to be heard over Feliciano's soft, sleepy "~Ve~, I didn't know we had stairs in this hotel!".


	5. The Second Night

The meeting progressed uneventfully, as far as Alfred was concerned. He paid more attention to Ivan's cuts and bruises, wondering how hard the Russian must have fought to have gotten away alive from ~it~. Maybe It had been full, after Francis, and hadn't really wanted Ivan?

That was good news; as long as someone got eaten before him, he was safe, right?

With this in mind, Alfred dozed off throughout the day, waking up every half hour or so to check if anyone had gone missing. At one point he thought he saw something white and pale flitting in and out of view in front of the board, but with a pounding heart he realized it was only Matthew.

As soon as the meeting was over, he followed Feliciano out of the meeting room. The Italian, who'd also been napping, had jumped up the moment Ludwig had agreed it was too dark to continue, and made a beeline for the door, humming a pasta song under his breath.

"Hey… hey! Feliciano! Hold up a moment!"

"Ve?"

"Hey, you don't like the dark, right?"

"Well, not really. But it's okay, since Ludwig will come to keep me company, so I won't be lonely with him and my delicious pasta!", Feliciano beamed.

"Well, um… are you sure Ludwig is enough?"

"Enough?"

"I mean, enough to protect you from the … you know…"

"Ludwig is really muscular and strong though! I know you can't really see it under the suit, but if you see him training in his top or in the shower-"

"Erm, no, I get it. Really."

"But…if you're lonely, than you could come stay with us, ~ve~?", smiled the Italian, turning to look at Alfred with innocent eyes.

"Really?", asked Alfred hopefully.

"Absolutely", grinned Feliciano.

***

"Absolutely not!", came Ludwig's tense voice from the doorway. The German had just walked into his room, flashlight in one hand and stack of papers in the other.

"But Lu~dwig! Alfred's been so nice to me, and he even promised not to bring any of that nasty food in here!"

Alfred had the presence of mind not to argue with Feliciano about his hamburgers being nasty – they were damn tasty, really – because the silly Italian was the only thing standing (sprawling on the couch) between him and getting eaten (being put out into the hallway by a very irritated German).

"I'm sure America will be more comfortable in his own room. You should also return to the room you've been assigned. I have a lot of work to do so-"

"So you won't play with me?!". Feliciano's eyes filled with tears at the thought; it was uncanny how adorably pathetic he could look at the drop of a hat.

Even Ludwig's resolve seemed to weaken for a moment before he drew himself up, visibly steeling himself for the inevitable burst of tears in response to his "No, I will not play with you."

"~ve~"

A sob.

"~ve~… l-ludwig"

A sniffle and more tears.

"I'll…I'll play with you later, alright?". Ludwig's shoulders slumped in defeat moments before Feliciano threw his arms around the taller man and chirped a happy "Thank you!".

"He", Ludwig pointed to Alfred, "has to go, though."

"But-"

"No buts, Italy"

"But-"

"None from you either, America. You have your own room which you are free to use however you wish. Please-"

"But I lost my key!", parried Alfred, making up excuses on the spot.

"You lost…mein gott, alright. You can stay here while I find you a spare."

"Wait, you're not going to leave me here, are you?", squeaked Alfred, eyes widening.

"You are welcome to come with me, if you so wish", deadpanned the German, moving into the dark hallway.

"N-no, that's ok. I'll just stay here then", replied Arthur, lowering himself shakily onto the room's only chair.

"As you wish. Just… don't touch anything." And with a final, pained look at his immaculate and neatly organized desk, Ludwig disappeared into the hallway, Feliciano bouncing after him with happy ~ve,ve~ sounds.

The door slammed shut behind them and Alfred was once again alone.

Swallowing loudly, he looked around the room. It was neat. Too neat. The way everything was perfectly arranged, the way the bed was tidily tucked in, the way the papers lay in careful piles, everything was uncannily eerie. Swallowing again, Alfred drew in a shaky breath and retrieved his piece of chalk.

One circle.

Two.

Sitting cross-legged, Alfred began to hum his national anthem quietly, feeling a little stronger for it.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Finally, America heard footsteps outside of the door. Just as he got up to explain that there was no way he could go back to his room even with a key because fairies had occupied it – the one thing he had learned early on is that no one argued with the fairy excuse except Francis and him – when a loud knocking was heard from the door.

Ludwig wouldn't knock on his own door, would he?

Oh God.

It wasn't Ludwig, was it?

"Br---- ope----door---ould----got----you", came the muffled yell from behind the wood.

Nope, not Ludwig. Alfred shivered and inched away from the door, looking around desperately.

The only window in the room was too small for him to crawl through. There was nowhere for him to hide in the perfect orderliness of the place; he wouldn't fit under the bed, and if the ~thing~ didn't kill him, Ludwig would if he went into the closet.

"Open----damn d-----come he-----dead-------"

It just said dead, didn't it?

"-----swear I'll kill ------ open------"

Alright, time for drastic measures. If the thing was coming to kill him, he wouldn't go down without a fight! He was a hero, after all!

The self-proclaimed hero crept towards the door, flashlight shaking and teeth chattering.

Alright. He could do this.

He could do this.

Three.

Reach for the lock.

Two.

Undo the latch.

One.

Grab the knob.

Zero.

With a yell of "Let's Rock and Roll, Monster!", Alfred burst out of the room, slamming the thing with the door in the process. Looking down, he saw a head of white hair, blood red eyes and… Holy Heroes! It still had the blood of its previous victims on its face!

With a short –eek!-, Alfred decided that hitting it while it was down was a decidedly un-heroic thing to do, and instead chose to dash off down the hallway, running as fast as he could without really seeing where he was going.

Soon, he was sprawled in the hallway on top of a very angry Switzerland.

**

"~ve, Ludwig?"

"Vat is it?"

"Where did Alfred go?"

"I don't know. Hopefully, to bunk with someone else."

"Does he not like us, Ludwig?"

The German sighed and turned to pat Feliciano on the head awkwardly "Of course he… likes you, don't worry. He's probably just had another crazy idea and went off to get himself arrested for it. Don't worry, they'll bring him back here eventually."

-BAM BAM-

"~ve~, Ludwig, I think someone's knocking."

Germany marched over and opened the door to reveal one very angry Gilbert Wielschmidt, wiping blood from his nose.

"Bruder? Vat happened?"

"I don't know West, you tell me what happened. I was knocking at your door, and suddenly someone runs out, RUNS ME OVER, and sprints off down the hallway."

Prussia sniffed, trying to stop the blood-flow, as Feliciano ran up with a hug.

"I don't want a hug, dammit. I want a tissue and the head of whoever that was! Just because I don't have any land at the moment, everyone thinks they can treat me like this!"

"~ve~, I'm sure he didn't mean it!", stated Feliciano brightly, offering a white flag. Prussia grabbed it and tilted back his head, wiping his face off roughly.

"You are still a country, Bruder", Ludwig suggested softly, knowing that this was a sore point for the older man.

"Of course you are!", smiled Feliciano. "Did you want to show us a game? I love games!"

"Oh, it's an awesome game! You're gonna love it! Come on over to Kiku's, he's gotten this whole system set up in his room over these freaky circle symbols or something", grinned Prussia, all anger forgotten but cloth still covering his nose.

"Kind of like these?", asked Ludwig suddenly, pointing to the floor.

Sure enough, there were two chalk circles drawn on the wood, with various unintelligible writings between them.

"Yeah, exactly like those. I guess that's just the design of this place or something. Anyways, hurry up!"

Prussia sauntered out into the hallway, Italy running after him before returning to grab Ludwig's hand and pull the German along. Oh well. He'll have to ask America about those circles later. There was just one thing he wanted to know.

"Bruder?"

"Yeah?"

"Vat exactly did you yell at the door?"

"I didn't yell."

"You always yell."

"Why do you need to know?"

"Just tell me."

"Alright, alright. I think I said something like 'Bruder, open this door, would you? Kiku's got this awesome game I wanna show you. Open the damn door already! Come here! What, are you dead in there or something? I swear, it's so awesome, I'll kill you at it! Come on, open the door!'"

"…"

"So why did you need to know?"

"…"

"West…"

"Just checking for amnesia. You did get hit on the head pretty hard."

"What?! You think some flimsy little hit like that can hurt me?!"

"~Ve~, hurry up!"

Ludwig followed Feliciano and his brother down the hallway, wondering what, apart from a crazy idea, could have possessed America to rush out like that. His brother could be quite frightening, especially around Austria, but the Prussian man seemed quite harmless today.


	6. The Second Night Part 2

Meanwhile, America lay on top of a winded Switzerland.

Lay being an overstatement, considering that he was promptly kicked off. America blinked from the floor at the gun pointed at his nose.

"What do you think you're doing", growled the man standing above him, grip on the pistol tightening. It was a simple M57 automatic assault rifle, nothing fancy, but still guaranteed to blow his head off at such a close range. He wouldn't die from it, of course, but it would hurt like hell, and Texas would be complaining for years.

"H-Hey there, Switzerland!"

"What do you think you're doing?", repeated the country, scowling.

"I was just running, see. Going for an evening jog?"

The green-eyed man raised his eyebrows.

"Hey, we haven't hung out in a while, right? How about we catch up. Talk a little?". Alfred gave a weak laugh, plastering his dazzling smile onto his face. His eyes were crossing from looking down the barrel.

Finally, the pistol was withdrawn.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Erm…I was… I was thinking about replacing the M4's in my army with something… you know, a little newer. You like guns, right? Any suggestions?", tried Alfred.

Apparently, he'd chosen a good topic, because the other man's eyes lit up and soon they were chatting about the benefits of the SIG 556 (Switzerland was proud of that one) and what they might mean for Alfred's designs for the Bushmaster ACR.

A few hours later, Alfred felt considerably braver, waving good-night to Switzerland who had said in no uncertain terms that if America tried to follow him into his room, he'd be full of holes. Still, he had lent Alfred his SG 553, which was almost guaranteed to keep him safe, right?

With that thought in mind, America walked down the hallway, vowing to drive whatever unholy forces occupied his room out.

Just as he rounded a corner, something crashed into him. Alfred screamed, whoever he had crashed into screamed and America recognized Spain, dripping red all over the floor.

"Antonio! It got you too?!", yelled Alfred, making to grab the other man in a fireman's lift and carry him to safety. There was no way he was going to let it eat anyone else, no matter how scared he was.

The Spanish man just gave him a strange look before rushing back into the darkness with a cry of "¡basta ya!, Lovi, ya me dispulpé."

There were a few seconds of silence before a high pitched scream resounded from the same direction.

Alfred guessed it was too late for Antonio, shivering and running back the way he came. All he could see on either side of him were closed doors, looming darkly. The scream still ringing in his ears, he feverishly drew a circle on the ground, sitting himself in the middle.

A few minutes later, he drew another, a little to the left. Then another, making a short path for himself. As long as he stayed in the circles, he would be safe, right?

Teeth chattering, Alfred scraped the chalk along the floor, repeating the same motion over and over and over again.

***

Down the hallway, Antonio lay doubled over on the ground, clutching at his vital regions.

"Serves you right, you tomato bastard!", yelled Lovino, launching another tomato at the man.

"I-It was an accident, I swear", gasped the Spanish man, blinking away tears and tomato juice.

"You stupid liar! Don't think I don't know you did it on purpose!"

"Lovi-"

"You are NEVER, EVER to touch my hair, you understand that you stupid-"

"I didn't do it on purpose, Lovi! I was just trying to hug you, you looked so cute-"

"Don't call me cute, you flamenco freak! How dare you go in my room anyways-"

"But Lovino, your room is the one across, that one was mi-"

"I KNOW who's room is whose, don't you dare argue with me!". And with that, Lovino launched another tomato at the poor Spaniard.


	7. The Second Day

Morning dawned once again on the quaint little inn hosting the congress. Birds were singing, Lovino had stopped yelling, and Feliciano was happily playing hopscotch with the multitude of circles decorating the floor.

"Mein Gott, vat is all this?", asked a horrified Ludwig, staring at the chalk drawings covering the floor and walls. Circles, dozens of them, along with crosses, stars, something that looked like a totem pole, and illegible symbols which he supposed were writings graced the wooden planks, white dust covering what little space was left – how was he going to explain all this to Francis?

Speaking of the Frenchman, he still hadn't returned; Ludwig wondered if he should send out a search party.

"This- this is quite unusual, Ludwig-kun", intoned Japan, having stepped out of his room to come face to face with the white dusty spectacle.

"I'll tell you what it is; it's damn freaky!", came from the end of the hallway, where Lovino was dragging a sleepy and soaking wet Spain to the conference room. The older man's white shirt was stained dull red in some places, despite obvious efforts to wash the colour out. It also smelled faintly of tomatoes.

"~ve~, Ludwig, where did all the pretty circles come from?"

"I am thinkink that I saw America draw some of these."

The nations whirled around to see a slightly less haggard Russia; on one hand, he wasn't bleeding anymore, but on the other, the bags under his eyes seemed to say that he hadn't slept a wink.

"I also believe that America is drawing these…symbols", agreed Japan quietly.

"But why would he do that?", asked Antonio from behind the older Italian.

"Perhaps… perhaps he has inherited it from someone, da?", suggested Russia with a sweet smile.

"You don't mean… he couldn't have gotten it from England-san, could he?"

"I am only sayink that I have ever seen two people drawink circles like this, and we know who they are being.", stated Ivan, shrugging his broad shoulders. "But if you are wanting, I vill go and ask America about his new… hobby."

With that, Ivan turned around and limped down the hallway, coat rustling behind him.

"He still has the marriage registration form stapled to his back", noted Spain sleepily.

***

Matthew found Alfred in the conference room, coming early to get the seat that was not next to Ivan. He nearly jumped in surprise upon seeing his brother, white as a ghost, rummaging around the blackboard.

"N-not here. Not here"

"A-al?"

"Who? WHOA! Oh, oh it's you… it's you Mat, sorry, didn't recognize you"

Matthew forgot to pout at that, fascinated by the chalky substance that seemed to cover every inch of his brother.

"Al, what happened to you?"

"Nothing, yet."

"What's wrong?"

"There's no chalk. It was here before, we left it here, remember? And now it's gone!"

Canada looked around, and, indeed, there was no chalk in sight.

"That's ok, Al. We can use erasable pens, right? We have a whiteboard in the storage room, so-"

"No, it's not ok! It's not ok, Mattie. It's not ok because first it was the stilettos, and then Francis went missing, and then it was the ghost and IT WAS WEARING THE CROSS, MATTIE, the black cross and it looked at me with its red eyes and-"

"Al", Matthew interrupted weakly, "Al, I don't know what you're talking about. What stilettos?"

"France's stilettos. And then the ghost with the blood that was going to kill me-"

"France doesn't wear stilettos, Al", chuckled Mat weakly. At least he thought Francis didn't. "And there are no ghosts here. Honestly. The only person who wears a cross is Prussia, but he's quite alive, I can assure you-"

"No, it was a ghost! Or maybe it was the viy, and, oh god, I looked at it, I looked right at it and now it can see me and-"

"Al, calm down!", Matthew grabbed his brother's hand and gave it a squeeze. "L-let's go get you something to eat, eh? I'll make you some pancakes; the ones you like, with the maple syrup."

"No, no, no, I gotta find the chalk, or else-"

"We'll find it later, ok? Let's just get you cleaned up."

Gently, Matthew led Alfred out of the conference room, Kumajirou padding softly behind them.

***

"~ve~, when is Russia going to come back?", asked Italy, for the third time that hour.

Most of the nations had gathered in the conference room; however, a number of seats were left unfilled. Ivan still hadn't returned, and no one had seen Francis since two days ago. Curiously, China was also nowhere in sight, and, most notably, Alfred was missing along with his brother.

"Just how many people are we missing?", growled Romano in annoyance, surveying the small group present.

"Five, when I go wake England", smiled Spain, shivering in his wet clothes.

The tan nation didn't have far to go; England's room was just across the hallway from the conference room. Knocking lightly on the door, the Spaniard soon met with the sight of a sleepy, half-dressed England muttering about his broken alarm and blushing.

"Buena mañana", smiled Antonio, "May I perhaps borrow some clothes?"

"Wot?"

Apparently, Arthur wasn't quite awake yet.

"May I perhaps borrow some clothes?", Spain repeated, slowly this time.

"Clothes? Oh, sure, help yourself. Good morning t- what the bloody hell is this?!" Arthur stepped out of his room to find himself surrounded by chalk caricatures and white dust.

"We were hoping you'd tell us", said Ludwig, walking out of the conference room.

"Why would I know-… oh, please don't tell me that insufferable git did it!"

"Which git are you referring to?", asked Spain, pulling a dry shirt over his head.

"America, of course. Francis would have more taste than ~this~"

"We do indeed believe that it was America-san's doing."

"Have you two been… talking lately?", asked Germany awkwardly.

"Talking? Unless you mean him stealing my torch, no, we haven't- Good God, you don't think I ~told~ him to do this, do you?", scoffed Arthur.

"Well, he has spent more time with you than anybody else", deadpanned Switzerland, "And it wouldn't be surprising for him to pick up some habits…"

"Habits?! So are you saying this…lunacy" – Arthur motioned to the hallway with a look of disgust - "… is actually ~my fault~?! Because I ~taught him~ how to … graffiti the walls?"

"We're not trying to lay the blame on you, Arthur", Spain hastened to say. "We're just curious about where he could've gotten these ideas from. You ~have~ drawn magic circles before…"

"Yes, and I summoned ~Russia~ of all people. I don't think America particularly wants to summon him, somehow.", snapped Arthur.

"~ve~, when is Russia coming back?"

"Why don't you think Braginski did it? Probably thought it was funny too", Arthur continued, raising his massive eyebrows.

"Russia is another case altogether", sighed Ludwig, ignoring Romano's mutter of "yeah, a nutcase".

"I'm sure Braginski will be back soon. Those of us who are here should proceed to the conference room. It's time to start the meeting, despite our low numbers. And if anyone sees America, tell him I'd like to have a chat", continued the German, throwing one last pained look at the hallway.


	8. The Third Night

Alfred wandered down the hallway, evening light slowly fading away. He'd spent the day with Mat, allowing himself to be cleaned and fed. Everything had been going well, until Matthew left to check on the conference, and came back saying that Yao and Ivan weren't there.

And when Alfred tried to tell him that It had gotten them, and they had to get out of here, because they were next, Matthew had just shushed him and fed him poutine and iced tea and let him hold Kumajirou until he felt better (which he didn't, the fur just made him sneeze like mad).

Finally, Alfred sneaked out while Mat was making Mac and Cheese, creeping toward the conference room, because there HAD to be chalk somewhere, right?

But alas, the room was completely chalk-free, except for the circles drawn on the floor. Alfred made sure to stay in those as much as possible. Just as he opened the door to leave, the door across the hall also opened, and he nearly jumped out of his skin before recognizing a very irate England.

"Arthur! You're ok!"

"No, I'm not ok, you wanker."

"What's the matter, did It-"

"The ~matter~", interrupted Arthur, "is that I'm getting blamed for your idiocy!"

"…What?"

"You heard me. Your redecoration of the hallway and rooms has me pinned as some crazy cultist who taught you… I don't know what!"

"But you do talk to fairies…"

"Those are different!"

"Yeah, they don't exist, unlike the Viy-"

"Yes, they do! They do too exist!"

"Arthur, I know you must get lonely sometimes, but imaginary friends are called ~imaginary~ for a reason..."

"They're not imaginary! They're real, unlike your… what was it… vie?"

"Viy. And it does too exist. Ivan told me, it can look into your soul and when it sees you all the demons-"

"Braginski did?!", exclaimed Arthur. "I knew that loon was behind it all! He told you about these…demons?"

"Yes", explained Alfred, happy that he was finally getting through to someone, "there's this super demon, like a level boss, and if he sees you-"

"You don't need to tell me the rest", sighed Arthur. "I know that story, and I can assure you, I've never seen anything like the creature described."

"That's because you die when you see it.", explained Alfred patiently.

"Well, no, you actually don't according to the tale, you're confusing it with a basilisk, but – oh, Alfred, you don't actually ~believe~ Ivan, do you?"

"But I SAW it. It had these red eyes and blood and-"

"Alfred, you probably just imagined it." Arthur's voice took on a paternal tone. "Remember when you were a boy?"

America tensed slightly. It was always a little painful to think back to those times, when England had been his beloved father-brother, smiling at him with a warmth he'd probably never see again.

"You were always scared of the dark, weren't you? Even if you didn't like to show it.", continued Arthur in a soft voice. "Remember what I used to tell you?"

"You said… you said you'd ask the fairies to watch over me", muttered Alfred, looking at the ground.

"And I did. Alfred, if any harm is going to come to you, I will be the first to know. And I won't let you get hurt. Not again.", Arthur was almost whispering now, furious blush gracing his features.

"When I say there is nothing coming after you, no ghosts, no demons, I'm sure of it. You're safe here, Al."

Alfred shifted awkwardly and slowly nodded.

"So please, don't draw any more crazy symbols, alright?"

Alfred nodded.

Arthur's stern expression softened a little. "Now be a good boy and go to sleep".

The Englishman held the door open for Alfred, patting him on the shoulder and trying to look reassuring. He had gotten through to him. Now-

"A-arthur…"

"What?", asked Arthur, following Alfred's panicked gaze to see a note pinned lying on the floor, facing his room.

On it were red letter, smeared a little, spelling YOU'RE NEXT.

"Oh God. Oh God."

"Alfred, calm down, this is-"

"Arthur, we've gotta get out of here, your pixies were wrong, It ~is~ coming-"

"Alfred, this is probably just a-"

But Alfred had already dashed away towards the inn's exit.

"-a joke", finished Arthur lamely.

Staring into the dark hallway, he didn't notice the shadows shift. The darkness moved, morphed. It drew closer, reaching out, brushing Arthur's shoulder and-

"Wha- Francis? Where in the Queen's name have you been, you git?!"

"Courteous as always, Angleterre. And here I was, arranging for the electricity in your room to be fixed"

"The electricity?"

"Oui. I even" – Francis pointed to the floor with a graceful flourish – "left you a note so that you'd know everything would be well soon"

"That's your idea of a note? You stupid frog, who writes a note like that?"

Francis shrugged. "I did not have much to work with, so I used what I had."

"What you had?"

"A napkin and some lipstick, Angleterre."

"Why couldn't you just ~tell~ me you were coming?"

"Ah, but I had to supervise the other rooms"

"The other-…. you left me for last, didn't you?!"

"Non"

"…"

"Per'aps"

"… I hate you."


	9. The Third Night Part 2

Alfred sat shivering in a corner, staring forlornly at the front door. Although he didn't know this, Ludwig had locked it earlier so as not to lose anyone else. To Alfred, however, it seemed like all the demons of hell were conspiring against him, keeping him here against his will.

Hugging his knees closer, he sat quietly and waited for ~It~ to come. Instead, a harried Canadian stumbled into the front hall, flashlight in hand and bear in tow.

"Alfred?"

"…"

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

Alfred looked up to see the worried face of his brother and wondered if that's what he looked like right now: face pale and eyes teary and hair curl drooping in exhaustion.

No way, he ~had~ to look cooler than that.

"Al, why did you run off?", asked Matthew, annoyance flashing in his eyes now that the initial worry had passed. "I looked all over for you; I thought you were hurt!"

"Heroes don't get hurt, Mattie", answered Al quietly.

"Heroes don't mope in the hallway either. Come on, let's go to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean, no?", snapped Matthew. "You're not going to sleep in the hallway, are you?"

"I'm not going to sleep"

"Do you even know what you look like? Any more 'not sleeping' and the bags under your eyes will smother New Jersey."

"…"

"Alfred F. Jones, you get up right now!", growled Matthew, pulling his arm urgently.

"Let me go", protested Alfred feebly, staying where he was.

"Alfred…"

"…"

"Alright, you asked for it!"

And suddenly, Alfred's world was turned upside down, Texas slipping down his nose. Readjusting the state, the found himself face to face with the back of a pair of jeans.

"Put me down, Mat!", squeaked Alfred in indignation, recognizing the Canadian's backside.

"No way", answered Mat, readjusting the American slung over his shoulder a little and beginning to walk towards the rooms.

Now Alfred had his face buried in a soft hoodie. Better, but still totally un-heroic.

"Ma~at~", Alfred whined, kicking and twisting a little, trying to get out of the Canadian's grip.

"Ow! Would you stop that?! You're difficult enough to carry as is, eh?"

"Put me down Mat!"

"Not until you stop being an idiot!"

And with that, Mat used his hip to prop open a door and carried the American into a cozy, warm room. The first thing Alfred noticed was the nightlight, shining brightly from beside the bed. The second was the hamburger-patterned sheets on the bed.

"Aww, you used the sheets I gave you!"

Matthew blushed and unceremoniously dumped his brother on the bed. Before Alfred had a chance to break for the door, Matthew used his weight to pin the other man's legs to the bed by the simple method of sitting on them.

"Alright, Al, I thought we went over this. There are no ghosts in the hotel. Or demons. Or anything else for that matter, except us invited nations and maybe Natalia."

"Natalia?"

"I saw her wandering the halls with a knife before. But you know how she is. She wouldn't hurt you unless you got between her and Ivan. Which I hope you're smart enough not to do?"

Alfred nodded.

"Oh, and there's Prussia too. But he's not a ghost. Not yet, anyways. So you really have nothing to be scared of."

Alfred gave him a disbelieving look.

"Alright, you know the story that you mentioned? The one Ivan told you? Well, in that story, the curse only lasted for three nights, eh? So you just have to be ok tonight, and you won't have to be scared anymore."

Mat looked down at his brother with a pleading look.

"And what about tonight?", muttered Alfred.

"Well…", Matthew nibbled on his bottom lip in thought, curl bobbing quite adorably. "I suppose you could stay here tonight. Ok?"

Alfred was about to protest that the quiet Canadian wouldn't be much help when fighting a monster, but the hopeful look Mat was giving him made him swallow the words.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd be okay here?

"A-Alright.", muttered Alfred, smiling weakly at his brother. Matthew immediately broke into a grin and moved to sit beside Alfred. Ow. Ow, he could feel his legs again, now that the Canadian had gotten off, and the pinprick feeling was nasty.

"Just don't try to run away, eh? Kumajirou will guard the door."

"Heroes don't run away.", mumbled Alfred, kicking off his sneakers.

Matthew's answer was muffled as he pulled off his hoodie. Grabbing the maple leaf patterned blanket from the foot of the bed, he covered both of them with it, pulling Alfred into a loose hug at the same time.

"…"

"…"

"…. Mat…"

"What?"

"That's awkward."

"…Shut up, eh?"

"…"

"…Mat?"

"What?!"

"You're not gonna fall asleep before me, are you?"

"'Course not."

"… promise?"

"…Promise."

"…"

"…"

"…really?"

"Go to sleep, Al."


	10. The Epilogue

Wednesday dawned in the Pyrenees, early summer breeze filtering into the room. Shivering, Alfred scooted closer to the warmth in front of him, snuggling closer until he felt it shift.

Wait, what?

Eyes snapping open, he was greeted by the sight of a sleeping Canadian, blonde hair tousled and breath steady, arms secured firmly around Al's waist.

"…erm… Mat…"

Silence.

"Mat, wake up."

The Canadian snuggled closer, giving a soft, sleepy whine.

"Mat, seriously. Wake up!"

Alfred reached up and gave Matthew a shake. Which had no effect. Alright, time for drastic measures.

Reaching for the Canadian's curl, Alfred grasped tightly and gave it a sharp tug. This time, the Canadian's eyes snapped open, as the boy sat up suddenly, confused and blushing like mad.

His brother was so strange sometimes, Al thought.

"You're awake, finally! I was starting to get worried", Alfred teased, free to move around now that Matthew had let go of him.

"Why'd you tug my hair?!", the younger boy complained, sending him a sleepy glare, "I asked you not to do that!"

"You're so weird, Mattie. It's just hair."

"Yeah, well, don't, eh?", the Canadian mumbled, looking away.

"Alright, alright. Anything you say, Mattie", grinned Alfred.

"Do you want breakfast?", asked Matthew, yawning and stretching.

"Are you going to make it?"

"…Sure, why not. Do you want pancakes?"

"Of course I do"

As Matthew crawled over to the nightstand to retrieve his glasses and Alfred ~didn't~ stare at the mountains of British Columbia, he didn't, because that was more awkward than the hug before, the American realized that today was the best he'd felt in a long time. He hadn't been mauled, eaten or anything of the sort, and if what Mat said was true than he was safe now that three nights were past.

He was safe so… maybe Arthur was right about the fairies?

Naah.

"Hey, Mat, I'll race you to the kitchen!", laughed Alfred, already taking off towards the door, ignoring the cry of "No fair!" behind him.

Yep, today was a great day.

**

WEDNESDAY

The door to the conference room slammed open and nine heads turned to see Natalia, clutching a piece of Ivan's scarf and looking around the room with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

"Has anyone seen my brother?", she inquired curtly, gaze roving over the room.

"Nope, sorry", grinned America from his seat, giving her a hero smile. Arthur rolled his eyes and sipped his Earl Gray, exchanging an exasperated look with Ludwig.

"Very well then". With a flutter of skirts, Natalia was gone.

A few minutes past.

"I think it's safe to come out now.", offered Canada.

With a lot of scuffling, Ivan emerged from underneath the table, exhaustion written on his face.

"So you actually stayed there for over a day?", asked England incredulously, amusement evident in his tone.

"Next time, I vill be organizing guards and defence, da?", answered Ivan darkly, taking a swing from his nearly empty vodka bottle and collapsing into a chair.

"That is quite the feat-aru!"

The nations all jumped in surprise and turned towards the door to see a smiling China walking in, Shinatty-chan cellphone in hand.

"Where exactly have you been?", asked Ludwig tensely, massaging his temples.

"Me? I went to town to get another power cord- aru. Then I noticed there was no Chinatown for miles, which made me think about how nice it would be to have dumplings readily available-aru!", grinned Yao, sauntering over to the table.

"And then…you went to another Chinatown?", Francis inquired hopefully.

"Nope. I made one right there-aru!", answered China happily, sliding a brochure across the table.

America smiled as Francis paled a little and picked up the piece of paper with the very tips of his fingers, considering the new attraction with a look of deep mistrust. England snickered, France glared back, and soon the two were in a heated argument over nothing. Ludwig moved to intervene, but found himself held back by the sleepy Italian draped across his lap. Romano started yelling at the German, barely restrained by a smiling Spain. Switzerland cocked his gun menacingly while China just stared.

Exchanging a smile with Mat, Alfred decided that things were exactly as they should be.

'And the Hero lived happily ever after', Al narrated in his head.


End file.
